"Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. Lucy did not want to have to kill the mother, as she hated more than anything to kill women, no matter what their sins. It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in Marylebone. But they did what they could for her. ‘Not if I heard him aright.
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